


Mac + Home Invasion + Bat

by saintsurvivor



Series: Tumblr + Whump + MacGyver + Drabbles [1]
Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: Angus MacGyver (MacGyver TV 2016) Whump, Broken Bones, Bruises, Gen, Home Invasion, Hurt Angus Macgyver (Macgyver 2016), Non-Graphic Violence, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Prompt Fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-22
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-13 14:29:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28904904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saintsurvivor/pseuds/saintsurvivor
Summary: Whumpee getting their arm slammed against a hard surface or object to force them to drop their weapon. Bonus points if it takes multiple slams for them to finally give into the pain and their wrist is already turning awful colors.Bozer isn’t home, Mac knows he’s spending the night at Leanna’s before she’s sent out on a deep cover mission. Jack and Riley haven’t stayed the night, nor has Charlie, since he’d wanted to get a head start back to New York after coming down for a few days
Series: Tumblr + Whump + MacGyver + Drabbles [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2119845
Comments: 12
Kudos: 61





	Mac + Home Invasion + Bat

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PatternsInTheIvy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PatternsInTheIvy/gifts).



He doesn’t quite know what awakes him. Only that, between the blink of an eye, the beat of a heart, he’s gone from edging on the very urge of sleep, dizzy with exhaustion and trying to ignore the aching of his body, to wide awake, eyes stinging. He sits up, feels the sheet fall from his chest, the moonlight blinding him before he blinks.

There’s a soft _thud_ , a noise Mac doesn’t think he’d have heard if something hadn’t pushed him from the soft dreamy edge he’d been teetering on. Bozer isn’t home, Mac knows he’s spending the night at Leanna’s before she’s sent out on a deep cover mission. Jack and Riley haven’t stayed the night, nor has Charlie, since he’d wanted to get a head start back to New York after coming down for a few days.

Another soft _thud_ , closer, just a little louder than before and Mac moves. Rolls out of bed, breathing lightly, makes sure that his steps are silent as he creeps to the door. Catches a hand around the heavy baseball bat Jack and Bozer had insisted he keep, because they’re both mother hens and had been egged on by one another and then Riley and Charlie had just further devolved the conversation. Hefts it over his shoulder in a ready position.

A soft squeak, the trick floor board that he’d installed a few years ago, and Mac breathes out lightly, twists his wrist to get a better grip. Slowly and steadily, he reaches a hand out, turns the knob as quietly as he can, uses his foot to wrench it open. Quick as lightening, he’s out, bounding forward, pivoting on his heel as he aims a heavy overarm pitch.

The intruder ducks, twists the next heavy blow that Mac aims low, designed to try to take out their kneecaps. They dodge that too, but the open palmed chip to their ribs catch, forcing out a heavy grunt. Mac gives a grunt of his own as a blow lands on his shoulder, twisting the muscle, a bone deep bruise he thinks he can already feel forming. He dodges the kick aimed to crumple his left knee, uses the fat length of the bat to redirect it. 

The man growls, twists, ducks, a heavy punch crushes against Mac’s ribs, has him heaving out a heavy breathe. He throws a sloppy punch, feeling how it skims the mans face, catches on his jaw. The intruder goes staggering back into shadows, and Mac slinks forward, aching and tired.

Before he can though, the glint of dark eyes loom from the darkness. A heavy foot catches on his thigh, aims a back kick to his knee, crumpling it. Mac cries out, hoarse, hurting, eyes clenching shut reflexively, manages to keep a hold of the bat, tries to aim another low blow but a foot kicks out at him. Mac grunts, a soft, hurt noise escaping from the very back of his throat when a heavy back hand has his lip splitting; he tastes old pennies and fresh copper, inky on his tongue, swallows it down. 

He can’t help how he chokes on it when a hand grabs the arm he’s still got the bat in, long fingers _tight_ around his wrist, tight enough he can feel the bones grinding together, has to choke back another hurt sound when the man _jerks_ it to the side.

Mac struggles, tries to pull back, manages to land a heavy blow on the thigh just in front of him, hears how the intruder gives a heavy grunt, before a hand, cool and pale, grab at his chin, _forcing_ his head up, nails digging into, something red hot, coppery smelling, wells up but Mac can’t move, not when that hand tightens on his wrist, uses the leverage of how the man is standing and Mac has been forced to his knees.

The hand around his wrist _shifts_ , and Mac barely has a moment before-

Pain, hot and lancing, agony thrumming through the delicate bones and Mac cries out, the door jam hard and splintering against the protruding bone of his wrist, sunhot and fiery. He cries out again, tries to hunch in on himself but he can’t. 

Feels his fingers starting to go numb but he doesn’t release the bat, tries to get his feet, but his wrist is twisted again, and his arm pulled back, bashed against the door jam all over again, fire hot, feeling the catch of it, splintering, spiralling, his eyes go grey, feels something _shift_ in his wrist. Again and again, the door jam shuddering, shaking, slowly cracking beneath the force of his wrist hitting it- bile claws up his throat, leaves him hunching over, those fingers dig into his cheek, blood hot and coppery slick in his mouth, seeping down his face. He’s going to choke on it, blood and pain and bruises-

The bat clatters to the floor, just out of reach, and through the grasp of pale fingers, Mac can see the bruises blooming, swollen and hurting, merlot red and ocean blue, vessels bursting, skin slowly breaking. He chokes down his own cries, head being forced upwards. Fresh blood blooms to the surface.

“Now, now boy scout,” Murdoc murmurs, hand squeezing harder around Mac’s wrist, nails digging into his cheeks, spiralling agony, chemical fire hurt. “Such a violent way to greet a visitor, how very _rude_ of you.”


End file.
